


Beer Bad (Or Good Depending On How You Look At It)

by affectionateTea



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Sloppy Makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-27 13:29:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/affectionateTea/pseuds/affectionateTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thith ith what happenth when alcohol ith involved. Bad thingth. Don't do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beer Bad (Or Good Depending On How You Look At It)

**Author's Note:**

> Just drabbling in my humanstuck AU, don't mind me.

"Fuck that shit."

"Dude, c'mon. Just one."

"No fuckin' way, Thtrider. Not on your life. Not in a million _yearth_ \--"

"So you're gonna make me do this alone, issat it?"

You cringe at the slight slur in your roommate's voice, because he is completely hammered. You'd told yourself so many times -- especially after that stupid, stupid day when FF had decided you needed to experience alcohol, and then shit had gone down and you'd freaked out and made a mess of it -- you promised yourself you wouldn't go there. Not again.

Bad things happened when you came in contact with alcohol. Fuck, it didn't even have to be _you_ drinking it. If you were in the room, and someone was drinking, bad shit happened. It was like... magnetism for trouble, amplified through the medium of booze. It was the _worst_.

And you come home after spending the day trailing after Aradia like a puppy dog -- Gog, she was so out of your league -- to find your roommate in his own fortress of empty beer cans, and some that weren't empty, and several bottles of various other kinds of alcohol with varying degrees of potency.

"T'rezi won't drink with me, says it smells... uh, hile... bi... Doesn't like it. Stupid. Her, not beer. Beer is great."

"Yeah, sure it ith, fuckwad," you mumble, and collapse next to him on the couch, because you've seen the alcohol, and it knows you're here, and now bad shit is going to happen whether you stay and drink or not, and fuck all if you're going to go hide in your room and let your stupid fuckass of a roommate get alcohol poisoning because he's a dipshit.

"And don't you forget it," he says, the words barely audible. He reaches for a can, and you leap up and snatch it out of his reach, going into the kitchen to get a glass of water and some crackers instead. Knowing Dave, he didn't bother eating anything before his little beer party.

"Drink thith," you say, shoving the glass into Dave's chest, and putting the crackers on the table. "You're thuch and athh," you mumble. "I wath having a shitty day, and now you pull thith, and jutht...fuck."

"But you're still here, cute lisp and all," Dave says, with a lopsided, drunken grin on his face, and your stomach gives a squirm, because Dave only smiles like that when he's drunk and unguarded, and only few have seen him like this, and for some inexplicable reason Dave doesn't seem to mind you seeing him like this, even though you're sure Dave would flip the fuck out if most people did, and the fact that Dave will stoop to lowering his guard around you just makes you feel... important, special, and _fuck_ , this is your roommate you're crushing on, stop it, it's not supposed to be like this --

"Fuck you, Dave," you mutter, and realize just how close you're currently sitting, you can feel his leg pressed against yours, and it's so _warm_...

"Only if you ask nice," Dave says, and you can't help the glance the flicks over, stunned, wondering if maybe, just maybe, he might be the tiniest bit serious--

And then Dave is crawling towards you, is practically straddling you on the couch, his face inches from yours, and fuck, how did this happen, when did this happen, he's so drunk, what's he doing, you don't--

But then his lips connect with yours, and for a moment, the world goes silent.

For some inexplicable reason, Dave equals quiet. No constant murmur of your thoughts running amok and getting all tangled in your head, no plans or schedules or things to remember, no more chaos. It all just... shuts up, for a while, as Dave investigates your lips with his tongue, and then, when his hands sneak under your shirt, and you let out a little gasp of surprise and pleasure, he takes the opportunity to dart into your mouth and begin the systematic mapping of your teeth, and _gog_ , he's really good at this--

But then your brain catches up with you, and you shove him -- not hard, but not light either -- so that he leans back a little.

"You're drunk," you manage to mumble, your head still swimming, _Dave kissed you, he really kissed you, that was a thing that just happened._

 __"Your point?"

You have to think for a moment about this, because you know there is one, and it's important that you make it, but _fuck_ , you just wanted his mouth on yours again--

"Your head. It'th methhed up. You don't want thith," you say, hating yourself at the same time, why are you stopping this, it's what _you_ want, you dumb fuck.

"And how exactly is it that you know what I want, Captor?"

You have no answer for this, and Strider knows you have no answer for this, and you completely forget what you were thinking about because he's kissing you again and you decide that you have never needed to think less in your life.


End file.
